


Every Piece

by Grimmseye



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles, Other, Rough Oral Sex, Slightly eldritch Nureyev, Tentacle Sex, Very light breeding kink, horrific overuse of ellipses sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmseye/pseuds/Grimmseye
Summary: “Sure,” Juno nodded, feeling lost. He gave a nervous laugh, “So, what? You trying to say that you’re part alien?”He grinned, teasing, until he saw Nureyev’s face. There was a grim set to his jaw, an intensity in his eyes, and Juno’s mouth fell open.“Wait —”
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 107
Collections: The Annual Penumbra Valentacular Spectacular





	Every Piece

The scent of Nureyev’s cologne wasn’t something Juno intended to ever forget again. It had hit him that day, out in the Martian desert with the dust still the the air. The wind had carried the scent of sand and diese and — underneath that breeze, more keen than the sight of him or the sound of his voice — that _scent._ A piece of another world. 

He’d wanted to bury his face into Nureyev’s shoulder and just breathe him in. Wounds Juno himself had left prevented that but now — _now_ he would never be wanting for it again. Nureyev never questioned it when he crawled into his lap and nuzzled into his neck. He didn’t today, either. 

There was a certain pleasant hunger to Nureyev’s kisses today. He wasn’t always so _pushy._ Confident, yes, but usually matching Juno’s pace, or going _slow_ when he didn’t. Agonizingly slow, making his gut clench and his chest heave for breath as he wound tighter and tighter —

So the teeth sinking into his lip were a pleasant surprise. He gasped and Nureyev pulled back, a satisfied smile on his lips that broke open around a laugh when Juno groaned and hid his face in his neck. 

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” Juno grumbled. He sighed as Nureyev’s fingers tangled into his curls. On the inhale, he caught a scent — not the familiar blade of his cologne, but something else: sweet, and heady. He found himself breathing deeper, the warmth Nureyev had stoked twisting hotter. Juno pressed his lips beneath Nureyev’s jaw, hearing a hitch of breath and a purr. 

“I like your new cologne,” Juno mumbled, then grazed his teeth over his jaw. “Or, perfume, maybe? Never got the difference.” 

Nureyev hummed, head tipping back to let Juno kiss a line down the column of his throat — and then paused. “Juno —” 

_“Mmmm?”_ He pulled back, feeling languid, almost drowsy — that comfortable warmth that said Nureyev could just push him down and have his way and Juno would be exactly where he needs to be. 

Instead, Nureyev shoved him back by the shoulders and out of his lap. Juno hit the mattress with a yelp. He barked a sharp, “Hey!” The haze evaporated at once, and Juno was left confused and irritated and glaring at Nureyev. “What the hell was that for?” 

He paused. The color had drained from Nureyev’s face, his eyes darting about the room before he shoved himself to his feet. “I should go,” Nureyev announced. He nearly tripped over his own discarded jacket as he moved for the door. “Apologies, I am — feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Wait, Nureyev!” Juno sat up. “Hold up, what’s going on?” 

Nureyev paused, though he looked for all the world like he wanted to _bolt_ from the room. “It is nothing to be concerned about, I just need to lie down for a bit. _Alone.”_

“I…” Juno trailed off and just frowned at him, feeling lost. He’d clearly missed something important, done _something_ wrong.

Maybe Nureyev could see the thought on his face, as his expression softened. He took a deep breath, _too_ deep of a breath, to say, “I promise you it is nothing you did. And I… I _will_ speak with you about it. Just not right now. I _really_ must go.”

Juno only nodded. He forced the words to soothe him, and watched Nureyev all but flee his room before the door slid shut behind him.

He’d hoped it would be a few hours, maybe up to a day before Nureyev felt ready to talk. Instead, they got an empty place at the table for dinner, and breakfast the next morning, and then through to the next evening. Vespa had started knocking at his door, got sent away twice before she refused to budge, until Nureyev finally announced he was only recovering from a migraine. 

Her expression pinched. “Is this _normal_ for you, Ransom?”

“Relatively!” Nureyev called. "Happens every handful of months or so, no need for concern!" His voice was strained, a sound that made Juno’s heart thud in sympathy. But if it had been that simple, why would Nureyev leave without an explanation?

Vespa growled and snapped, “If you’d told me _earlier,_ we could have figured out something to _treat_ that. _Idiot.”_ She waited in vain for a response before biting out a curse, shaking her head as she turned to stalk away.

“Careful, Vespa,” Juno commented. “It’s starting to sound like you actually care.”

He couldn’t keep the fondness out of his voice. She gave him a look so foul you'd swear he'd just insulted her fiancée.

She halted, and Juno thought for a moment she intended to chew him out. Instead she crossed her arms and said, “Buddy’s taking the rest of us out for dinner. You sticking around here?”

Juno tried not to smile. She would take it as patronizing, not the honest appreciation he felt. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, keep an eye on him.”

Her lips twisted, but she nodded. “Ping me if he keels over or some shit.”

He flashed a thumbs-up to see her off. When she was gone, and the corridor was clear, Juno moved for the door. He paused with his fist raised, listening instead of knocking right away. Through the door he heard bedsheets rustling, a sudden catch of Nureyev’s voice. Panting, breaking into a groan. Some of the sounds grazed a specific, inappropriate set of memories, but most of them just sound _pained._

“Nureyev?” Sure the ship was empty, he called through the door. The sounds stopped. “You alright? You uh… need anything?” 

_“Juno.”_ It was muffled, and desperate, though Juno couldn’t tell what sort of desperation it was. “I… No, Juno. I will be fine. I just need a few days to… sleep this off.” His words were broken by rasps of breath. 

Juno hesitated, drawing out his words as he asked, “Well, everyone headed out for dinner… Can I come in?”

Nureyev didn’t like _anyone_ coming into his room, and for relatively good reason. The few glimpses of it Juno had gotten had made even _him_ wince, a backwards look into the very worst days when he couldn’t bring himself to pick up for weeks, months on end. More than once, Rita had bullied her way into his apartment with garbage bags to either toss or organize later, but Juno didn’t think this was quite the same thing. What it _was,_ he didn’t know, but Nureyev clung to his privacy more desperately than a rabbit clutched a bill. 

“It may be best if you don’t,” Nureyev finally called. “It… requires some explaining and i-in this state… like this I am not… I — I —” 

He cut into a high, pained noise, making Juno’s heart jump and race. He _had_ to respect Nureyev’s boundaries, no matter how much he wanted to just throw the door open and run to him. But his mind was racing, conjuring all the worst possibilities, none of them making sense but each one a new shot of adrenaline into his veins. 

Juno gulped a few breaths, focusing on slowing his heart until he could form words. “Look, Nureyev If you _really_ want to be alone, I’ll trust you. But I’m also… _really_ worried. And if you’re afraid of what I’ll _think_ or _do_ I just… I’m not going anywhere, alright? Not this time.”

His voice went soft, so soft he didn’t know if Nureyev would be able to hear him through the door. But, after a long pause, Nureyev said, “You can come in, Juno.”

Relief was a balm over his skin, soothing frayed nerves. Juno opened the door, finding the room as cluttered as he might expect: nightstands overflowing, the floor with a patchwork road to follow to the bed. Beyond the clutter, though, something about the room felt _off._ Walking in had something scratching the very back of his brain, where instinct bristled and bared its fangs and insisted that _some_ piece of the darkness had moved. 

Nureyev himself was sitting up, wrapped in a blanket and knees to his chest. As Juno picked his way towards him, that sweet perfume caught him again, soothing the anxious stutter of his nerves. He sat beside Nureyev, frowning as he leaned _away_ from Juno and closer to the wall. 

Juno searched him. He was flushed, sweat broken out across his face. His _eyes_ were strange, too, though in the dark Juno couldn’t be sure if he was seeing it right. The pupils looked elliptical, vertical slits blown wide. The rest of him was completely covered. 

“So,” Juno started, voice gentle. “What’s going on?” 

Nureyev took a long, long moment to find his voice. When he did, it took Juno off guard, having sat in the silence so long he’d found himself watching the shadows, wondering if they were meant to be so black. 

“I am certain you recall our encounter with Miasma,” he started.

Immediately, concern edged into Juno’s stomach. “Kinda hard to forget. A few days of torture and the impending death of a _planet_ really drills something into your memory.”

Nureyev gave a bitter laugh. “Indeed. But, I am speaking less on the experience and more on Miasma _herself._ She, well. She altered her own DNA, didn’t she? Made herself partially Martian — quite an ironic twist of fate, that such actions were what sealed her demise. _But._ She took a long dead alien race, and at least _partially_ made herself one of them.”

“Sure,” Juno nodded, feeling lost. He gave a nervous laugh, “So, what? You trying to say that _you’re_ part alien?” 

He grinned, teasing, until he saw Nureyev’s face. There was a grim set to his jaw, an intensity in his eyes, and Juno’s mouth fell open. 

_“Wait —”_

“It’s a lot to take in, I understand!” Nureyev glanced away, wincing. “I do not know the details of it, of course, only know what I have learned throughout my own life. And what I have _learned_ is that, well…” He cleared his throat. “Meeting a certain set of factors activates a biological response in me, one that strips my control over certain physical transformations and… I experience certain _urges.”_

Juno grimaced. Nureyev caught the expression, his face falling before Juno hurriedly said, “No, look it’s — I just don’t get it, okay? You’re gonna have to be a little more direct? Please?” 

The need to reassure him struck hard, an urge to _prove_ it. He reached for Nureyev, only for the man to jerk away from him. Juno stared, then dropped his hand, trying to keep a hold on the hurt and confusion that were muddling up inside of him.

Nureyev hunched in on himself. “I should just… show you,” he murmured. 

“You don’t have to —”

“I know,” he cut in. “But all the same, could you move off of the bed, please? It may be best if you have some distance. I imagine it will be a bit jarring.”

Juno wanted to protest. He wanted, desperately, to _make_ Nureyev understand that whatever this was, he wasn’t going to run. He could deal with _alien._ Hell, he might be part alien himself with whatever is happening in his bloodstream. So he stood up and nodded encouragingly to Nureyev, who turned so his back was to Juno. Then, he let the blanket fall. 

Juno was ashamed to admit he balked. 

There were _tentacles_. Long, black tendrils that extended from the spine. They were malleable, stretching and shrinking, curling into one another. It was unnatural, made his stomach twist and nausea burn at the back of his throat. 

When Nureyev twitched and abruptly grabbed the blanket, Juno realized he’d just been staring for several long moments. “Wait — wait —” Juno blurted out. Nureyev froze. He glanced over his shoulder, and Juno could _see_ the fear there, and resolve hardened in his chest. 

“Okay. I’m gonna need a few moments for this,” Juno admitted. “But it’s not — it’s a part of you, right? So, I’ll just… learn to love this, too.” It sounded cheesy, even to him. And yet it was true.

So it stung when Nureyev scoffed a laugh. “There’s no need for such a thing, dear detective.” There was a note of bitterness in his voice. “In a few days it will clear up and I will be myself again.”

“Nureyev, you _are_ yourself,” Juno said, stubborn now. For once he was glad for his contrary nature; the best way to get Juno Steel to put his foot down was telling him he _couldn’t._ “Just give me a second to _process,_ alright?”

Nureyev slumped. “Alright,” he said, sounding defeated. 

And Juno forced himself to do just that. He looked, he reprocessed. The image labeled _Peter Nureyev_ in his mind got a new layer, one that involved slitted pupils and sharper teeth and strange black tendrils curling off his back. 

When he could look without his stomach twisting, he asked, “Can I, uh… touch? Them?”

It made him smile, watching Nureyev straighten up in shock. _See,_ he wanted to crow. _You’re worth it. I’m not leaving._

“Are you…” Nureyev turned, blinking up at him. “You’re _certain?”_

Juno smirked, feeling like he’d won. “Yup.” 

Nureyev looked dazed. “Oh. I…” Then he frowned. “I… Well. That would not be a good idea, Juno. They’re a bit, ah… sensitive.” 

“Painful?”

“No…” Nureyev’s gaze darted away. Pink colored his skin. 

Pieces clicked into place. “Hold on. You said… _urges.”_ He watched, gawking, as Nureyev’s shoulders crept up towards his ears. “Wait is this some kind of — of _heat,_ or —

Nureyev cleared his throat. “I believe the appropriate term in this case would be _rut,_ but, well, that’s a bit _animalistic_ for my tastes. Even if I suppose it wouldn’t be inaccurate.” 

Suddenly, Juno felt that same heat creeping up his face. The noises Nureyev had been making — that mix of desperation and pain. He saw it, now that he was looking. There was a hunger in Nureyev’s eyes, even if he tried to tamp it down. Fixed under that gaze, Juno felt like he was pinned beneath a predator, even when he was the one standing over Nureyev. 

Juno sat down on the bed again, this time with more space between them. “So… you’re in here because your alien hormones are making you, just. _Unconscionably_ horny.” 

Nureyev covered his face, choking out a laugh. “Once again, not the phrasing I would use, but unfortunately accurate. It is uncomfortable, but there are no detriments to my health, beyond productivity.” 

“Would it help if you… you know.” Juno shrugged with one shoulder. “Acted on those urges?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Nureyev sighed. “It’s hardly as though I’ve invited anyone to bed like _this._ It’s a rare occurrence, regardless — perception of a viable partner combined with certain hormonal cycles —” 

Juno didn’t let himself overthink it before he blurted out, “Wanna test it?”

Nureyev’s voice dwindled into silence. Juno’s face was on fire. 

“Juno,” Nureyev frowned. “I — you understand I told you this because you… because I care about you, and I want you to be informed about who… about _what_ you are involving yourself with. I do not expect you to _engage_ with me.”

“I know,” Juno told him. “I _do._ I just… Well, one, it seems kind of miserable to be stuck here. And I don’t think Vespa’s gonna care about your door lock if you stay in here another day. _And…_ maybe I’m just curious?” 

Conflict raced through Nureyev’s eyes, the clash between guilt and desire, that hunger kept at bay by an ingrained _certainty_ that what Juno said could not be true. Juno knew the feeling well. 

The guilt, and the self-doubt, that is. 

“Are you _certain?”_ He pressed, leaning forward. “Actually, before you answer, that’s, ah. My back is not the only part of me that _changes.”_

This time, Juno caught the meaning. “Ah,” he said, finding difficulty swallowing. “That… Yeah. Yeah, I’m certain. Can I kiss you?” 

A giddy smile fluttered across Nureyev’s lips. “Not yet,” he sighed, breezy and reluctant. “I’d _really_ best wash up and… I think we may want to move to _your_ room. Far more romantic in there.” 

“Didn’t know _romantic_ was the opposite of _a wreck._ In fact, the two are usually synonymous in my experience.”

“Oh, hush.” Nureyev shooed him away. “I’m going to shower. So I suppose I will… see you in a few minutes?”

Juno nodded, abruptly dazed, wondering what exactly he’d managed to get into. “Yeah. I’ll be seeing you.” 

It took him several moments after Nureyev left to remember to head to his own room.

  
  
  


He spent the time with anticipation twisting in his gut. The sound of running water roared softly in the walls, letting him know Nureyev was true to his word. 

He undressed without a thought, surprised to find himself hardening as his imagination sorted through possibilities. Would there be another one of those tendrils between his legs? Would one push inside him — would that squirming be revolting or… 

The twitch of his cock made one suggestion. Juno listened to the hiss of the pipes as he laid back, legs stretching wide. He pushed slicked fingers into himself, coaxing dull pleasure into his belly. Thoughts and questions began to look more like fantasies, an abstract image of nerves and a feeling like nothing else. He was a kid again, experimenting with someone he’d called a friend back then and barely remembered the name of today, anticipation and uncertainty making his hands shake. Nureyev made him feel like that a lot, like a lifetime of experience couldn’t keep him on his feet. It was one of his favorite things about him. 

At some point, he realized the water had stopped. He slipped his fingers free, laying back to catch his breath. He probably shouldn’t be _this_ excited, cock full and curving over his belly. Or maybe he should. Maybe it would be better if Nureyev opened the door and found Juno flushed and ready for him. 

The time spent waiting did it’s job in cooling him off, though. When nearly ten minutes had passed without a sign from Nureyev, Juno grabbed his comms, typing out ‘ _On your way?’_

Almost immediately, Nureyev started typing. He watched the indicator pop up and down several times before a simple ‘ _Yes’_ appeared. 

And there was that anticipation again, tight and sweet. It wasn’t long before he heard Nureyev just beyond the door, Juno calling, “Get in here, Nureyev,” before he could even knock. 

The door slid open. Nureyev was only half dressed, slacks pulled on but bare-chested. Juno could _just_ see the length of one tendril waving over his shoulder. From this angle, it was strangely fitting: the stark light of the hall casting deep shadows upon his face, features sharp and angular, pale skin and dark eyes and dark hair and dark tendrils like a shadow manifested at his back. There was a certain power in that image. Juno knew without a doubt that Nureyev could hold him down with one hand and Juno would never be able to get free. 

It was exhilarating. 

“Lock the door,” Juno breathed, wondering how he’d balked at this just minutes before. “And get over here, Nureyev.”

Surprise lit his face, before a tentative smile peeked through. The locks engaged with a heavy click. Nureyev’s gaze raked down his body, down to where his cock was still half-hard over his belly, his hole stretched and slick. Dark eyes widened, and he shed some of that hesitance as he strode to the bed. 

Juno reached for him, moving into Nureyev’s lap and pulling him into a kiss. Nureyev instantly had him by the hair, slipping out of his fear like it was a jacket loose on his shoulders. He twisted his curls to angle Juno’s head, kissing him hard and deep and dragging a stuttered noise from his throat. He didn’t seem to care if Juno could keep up, just needed him pliant and willing so he could devour his mouth. 

Nureyev tipped him backwards onto the bed. Juno gasped, clutching in his hair as he fell, back bouncing on the mattress and his other hand grasping for his back. His hand met cool, slick protrusions that curled around his wrist and wriggled between his fingers. Nureyev gasped, and then made a sound Juno had never heard from him before. It was like a growl, rumbling low, and the next thing Juno knew he was on his belly and crying out as teeth sank into the back of his neck. 

Nureyev held his hands down, keeping him pinned as he worked bruises across his shoulders. The shock of heat against his chilled skin made him jerk and buck, rubbing against the sheets. Nureyev’s hips were pressed to his ass, and through his slacks Juno swore he could feel something squirm. 

Heat flooded his belly. He canted his hips backwards, trying to rub up against him and earning a low moan in his ear. 

“Nureyev —” he gasped. “Come on, give me more.” 

“Patience, Juno.” Nureyev’s voice was rough. Ordinarily he was poised, a laugh that bordered on condescending and a confidence that bordered on infuriating — then switching to awe at the drop of a hat, and leaving Juno stunned and burning beneath his words. 

Now, though, Nureyev sounded strained, like he was holding himself together by threads alone. _That_ was a rush he hadn’t felt in a while. 

And despite his words, Nureyev’s own patience must have ran out. Juno grinned to himself as his partner moved, releasing his wrists to steal the bottle off his nightstand. There was the click of a cap and then slicked fingers were pushing in where he’d already opened himself up. 

Juno relaxed in the sheets,head lolling back with idle pleasure. A purr rumbled over him. “How eager were you, dearest?” Nureyev murmured, crooking his fingers. Juno could only gasp, thighs straining to push him back on his hand. When he spoke again, there was that awe, soft and rasping. “I never imagined I’d be so lucky,” Nureyev said, like he was talking to himself. “Do you know what that’s like, Juno? I thought you would be scared and instead I find you waiting… _wanting.”_

“Doing a lot of both right now, actually,” Juno panted. “Nureyev, _please.”_

His voice went serious. “You’re completely certain, Juno?” 

_“Yes._ God, do I have to sit on you to get the point across.” 

“Later, perhaps. For now, just be patient a moment longer.” 

Juno held his breath, listening as Nureyev pushed his slacks down his thighs, belt rattling as it hit the floor. Juno shifted to get comfortable, propping up on his knees, folding a pillow beneath his head. When Nureyev returned to him, it was first with hands on his hips, and then — 

Something slick curled over his thigh. Juno trembled at the sensation. He could imagine it already: another tendril, shorter and thicker than those at his back. Tapered at the tip and swelling at the base, and he swore he felt ridges catch in time with Nureyev’s breath. 

“Juno —” 

He lifted his ass, intending to snap at him and whining a plea instead. Heat flared at his cheeks. Was he really _that_ desperate? How did he look, to Nureyev’s eyes? Desperate, debauched, begging with voice and body to be filled. 

Juno suddenly couldn’t breathe. That tendril slicked up his thigh, and over his hole. The tip of it caught the rim, a feeling so _filthy_ that he blushed brighter as his hips twitched backwards. Nureyev was murmuring something above him, incomprehensible except for that _tone,_ that misplaced awe like Juno was some priceless treasure.

Then all thoughts emptied from his mind as Nureyev guided himself inside, first just the thickness of a few fingers, and then more, and then _more._

A groan pushed out of him, stuttering with each catch of his breath. Nureyev sank into him, growing thicker as he pushed deeper. Rolling thrusts had Juno sinking from his elbows until his chest was arced across the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets, mouth open and panting. 

“Juno...?” Nureyev asked, voice soft and slurred, like he was drunk. Still, he paused, hips going still though the tendril inside him was shifting, brushing up against parts of him that made him dizzy. An upward curl made his eyes flutter, moaning into the blanket. 

Clearer, now, Nureyev repeated, “Juno. Do you want me to stop?” A note of concern had entered his voice, and Juno _hated_ that. His head was spinning, he felt so full he couldn’t catch his breath, and he’d never felt _better._

He rushed to find his voice, whining out, “Keep — k-keep going, p… _please,_ keep —” 

Nureyev hushed him, and Juno relaxed at once. The low, crooning tone washed over him, “I’ve got you, love.” His hips rolled forward, Juno sobbing with relief. He clawed the pillow to his face, head turned to the side as he shifted eagerly back into each thrust. It was right on that edge of too much, that slide and stretch inside him, the fullness of every inch Nureyev was stuffing inside him. And above, that croon rumbled low as sharp teeth grazed his ear. 

“If only you could see yourself now,” Nureyev purred, the sound _dangerous,_ making his belly flip. Hands laid over his own, like Nureyev was pinning him down as he rutted harder into Juno. “You’re _perfect_ , my _dearest_ detective. A _vision,_ splayed out underneath me and _writhing_ for it. You look _so_ full.” 

There was such a lust in his voice, _hunger,_ like stuffing Juno until he swore he could feel it in his stomach wasn’t enough — and like it was still the highest pleasure he had ever found. And just as soon as that thought chased through his head, Nureyev’s weight pushed him deeper into the mattress, snapping into him with heavy thrusts, burying himself in Juno’s ass like he needed it. 

“Do you want _more?”_ Nureyev rumbled, fingers tightening, lacing between Juno’s. “Can you take it, dearest?” 

Could he? Juno could barely take this. And yet he was shoving himself back into every thrust, loving the feeling of Nureyev slipping _deeper,_ filling what felt empty every time he eased back. He could feel it squirming, every curl against his prostate making his hips jerk against the bed, making him seize up and muffle a cry into the pillow. 

“I can take it,” he gasped. “I want more, I can take it, _please —”_

Fingers pushed into his mouth. Juno moaned around them, slurring another _please_ before giving in and just laving at the new intrusion. It felt so good, Nureyev shoving his fingers over his tongue until he felt like gagging, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. He loved having something else to suck on like this, wondered if there wasn’t another tendril that could push into his mouth and down his throat. 

Then Nureyev stopped. He eased out, even his fingers slipping from Juno’s mouth. Confused, disoriented, Juno mumbled at him, only to get another hush. “Patience, dear,” Nureyev said, kissing the back of his neck. “And relax for me.” 

When he felt that tendril slide between his cheeks, he did just that, perfectly pliant. The thin tip teased at his rim, Juno hissing a, “Yes, yes, _please,_ Nureyev,” and sinking into a grateful moan when he slid in again. But this time, something else chased it. Nureyev slid a finger in alongside his tendril, slick with Juno’s spit. Then another, still not stretching him like before but opening him up for a second tentacle to join the first.

Juno might have collapsed if he wasn’t already face-down in the bed. “Is this alright?” Nureyev asked. 

“If you don’t _hurry up_ , I am going to leave you here to hump the pillow,” Juno bit out, proud of himself for how steady his voice was when the rest of his being was shaking. 

Nureyev chuckled, and obeyed. Juno’s breath came in stuttered gulps, feeling that second tentacle begin to squirm its way beside its twin. Nureyev canted his hips, sinking deeper, quickly reaching the stretch from before — and then further. Juno groaned. Nureyev _growled_ over him, an animal noise. 

_“Juno,”_ Nureyev gasped. His chest weighed over Juno’s back, heat trapped and scorching between them. Lips found the back of his neck, the scrape of sharp teeth on his skin as Nureyev groaned out, “I — ah, haha, I may have been the one unable to take this.”

“You wanna stop?” Juno murmured, somehow able to free a hand from the sheets to crane it back and comb through Nureyev’s hair. 

“Not at _all.”_ That growl entered his voice, punctuated with a rough shove of the hips. Juno gasped. His fingers twisted in Nureyev’s hair, feeling his pulse in his ears as he reacclimated to the stretch. At once, Nureyev cooed an apology, making as though to pull away completely if not for the grip on his hair. 

“That’s what I meant,” Nureyev murmured. “This is…” He dragged in a breath, letting it out with a shuddering sigh. _“Amazing._ And all I want to do is hold you down and breed you.” 

Juno’s dick twitched. His mouth felt dry, and he struggled to swallow before rasping out, _“Oh.”_

A beat, and then Nureyev cursed. “Again, I am sorry. That was too much,”

“It _really_ wasn’t,” Juno breathed, all in a rush. When Nureyev didn’t speak, he added, “Seriously, that actually sounds… _wow._ Yeah. I want that. And, you need that.” 

“Not _need,”_ Nureyev countered. Juno could hear the strain in his voice. “I _want._ But I will suffer no real detriment without.” 

Nureyev was trembling. He still couldn’t keep his hips from twitching, his tendrils from curling inside of Juno, making him gasp with sharp sparks of pleasure. Without this, it would be a long stretch of days of Nureyev alone in bed, desperate and miserable. 

None of that made Juno feel like he _had_ to be here, but knowing he _was_ made heat flare in his belly all the same. “That’s true,” Juno breathed, “But it feels like you need it, doesn’t it, babe? And I’m right here, all yours.”

Nureyev tensed, and shuddered. _“Juno,”_ he rasped. 

“I’ve got you,” Juno soothed. “I want you to use me. Take everything you need.” 

Nureyev groaned, the sound twisting into a rumble. Juno felt the instant Nureyev’s control began to break, as he started grinding against him in earnest, rocking himself deeper, deeper. Juno pulled at his hair, the other hand clawing at the blankets as he shoved in until Juno was stretched wider than he’d ever been before, two tentacles lodged deep in his guts. Nureyev’s hips were flush, and _still_ he rocked harder against him, like he could grind himself just a bit deeper.

 _‘Nureyev,_ Nureyev, baby, that’s it,” Juno moaned. It was a miracle he could still form words. “I’m all yours.”

 _“Yes,”_ Nureyev hissed, “you _are.”_

Then Juno was on his back. Nureyev loomed over him, and Juno gasped at the sight. He only had a moment to take it all in: the jagged teeth, the slitted pupils, the tendrils that lashed in the air above his back, the shadows that deepened and darkened around him until Nureyev was the only thing he could see, the only focus he had. 

And then Nureyev shoved into him again, and Juno’s cry was smothered into a kiss. He grasped at him at once, seizing his hair and pawing at his back, through the black tentacles that formed an undulating crest above them.

Nureyev growled into his mouth, deepening their kiss, and as Juno’s eyes fluttered shut he lifted that hand. They were thick and ridged, twisting around his grip. 

Nureyev broke the kiss with a gasp, and sank his teeth into Juno’s neck. Curiosity fled him. He arched, arms wrapping full around Nureyev’s head and back to _keep_ him there. The sharp pain, the heat of his mouth, he swore he felt his skin break under those sharp points and it only made him rut down onto Nureyev’s cocks. 

Lips sealed around the spot, Nureyev panting through his nose as he sucked. Every breath was underlaid by a growl. 

Juno’s throat was getting sore. He blinked his eyes open, finding them blurry with unshed tears. _“Nureyev,”_ he whimpered. “I _can’t, I —_ I’m so — I’m _so fucking close,_ babe.” 

Lips parted from his neck with a wet sound. _“Good,”_ he praised, thick with adoration that made Juno blush a shade deeper. “And if I fuck you through it, dearest one? You did say you were mine, didn’t you? Mine to use, as much as I need.” 

Juno nodded absently, just getting enough mind to take one of Nureyev’s hands and guide it between them — only for Nureyev to twist and pin Juno’s hand back in the sheets. 

“Ah-ah,” Nureyev _tsk’_ ed. “This is about me, isn’t it? And _I_ want to see you come _just. From. This.”_ Each word met a snap of his hips, a stuttered sound in Juno’s throat. 

His cock was aching, flushed against his belly, leaking pre across his skin. _“Nureyev,”_ he begged, “I need _more.”_ He wanted to give Nureyev what he asked for, ached to please him and shifted hungrily back onto his tendrils. But it wasn’t enough, and soon he was whimpering in frustration as he found himself balanced on a line, so good and so full but _right_ above that edge. 

Soon Nureyev had both his hands pinned, holding him down as he kissed Juno breathless. Juno chased his mouth when he parted, and when he opened his eyes, found Nureyev staring at him with a considering expression. 

“You wanted more?” He asked, and one of those waving tendrils moved. Juno couldn’t watch it, something was unnatural and displaced in its existence, but when blunt and slick probed at his lips, he gladly opened his mouth. Somehow, having that length slide over his tongue had his stomach twisting even tighter. His head fell back, his jaw going lax, inviting Nureyev to fuck his throat and toes curling when he did just that. 

He had to look like a _wreck:_ tears in his rolled-up eyes and drool on his chin, skin flushed and shining.. Each push into his throat got a slick noise, souding _filthy_ when it shoved too deep and he gagged on it, dizzy with pleasure as his choking turned to moans. And above him, he could barely make out Nureyev’s ravenous expression, drinking all of him in. 

“Is that enough for you?” Nureyev asked, a tone that might have been degrading if there wasn’t that undercurrent of awe. “Stuffed at both ends, Juno, is _that_ enough? Or do I need a third inside of you, do I need to _break_ you before you’ll come? I can do that, if it’s what you need, dearest one. _Anything_ you need. You just say the word. But, _oh,_ you poor thing — you _can’t,_ can you?” 

The tendril pushed in. Juno’s eyes rolled back, just trying to keep his throat open, loving the pressure. If he needed, he could tap out in a second. But he took it, took Nureyev’s pounding and his honey-sweet words, all of it weighing heavy in the air and burning him like a match. 

He didn’t even know what pushed him over. Somewhere between it all, the world went white. He bucked and shuddered, the tentacle pulling free from his mouth to let him give a broken, sobbing cry. His cock pulsed, shooting over his belly and chest, and then again, and then _again._

When he came to, he was limp. Nureyev was _still_ rocking into him, gentler now, his voice a croon and a hiss as he held Juno close. His lips pushed over his cheeks, his jaw, desperate, affectionate kisses. 

He couldn’t speak, so he laid still and let Nureyev use him, fingers curled tight around the other’s. Time dilated. Oversensitive, he twitched and whimpered, until it settled into dull waves of pleasure. Nureyev bit into him again, and this time the pain was too sharp. He let go the moment Juno pushed at him, kissing an apology against his neck. 

When he came, it filled him. Hot gushes inside of him, longer and more copious than any human orgasm. He watched Nureyev through half-lidded eyes, that possessive snarl given way to pure and desperate need, trying to push deeper as he spilled himself inside of Juno.

When he was spent, he went limp on top of Juno. They rolled over, tangled up in each other. Juno couldn’t say a word, but Nureyev had all of them for him, breathless praise between the kisses showered atop his head. 

“I do not know how I got this lucky, Juno,” Nureyev told him, with his nose buried in Juno’s curls. “But I am glad I did.”

“Yeah?” Juno rasped. “Me too, Nureyev. Now c’mon — you’re carrying me to the shower before everyone gets back.” 

Nureyev chuckled, delighted. “Anything for you, my dear. Anything in the world.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I both can't believe that my first tpp fic is tentacle alien sex and 100% absolutely can. 
> 
> Anyway, please do let me know what you think with a comment. I'm a bit nervous getting started in a new fandom, so hearing from y'all is pretty important for me to know if I should keep writing. <3


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